


Smooches by South Island Airlines

by TheClarityOrganism, TheEnigmaMachine



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flight Attendants, Extreme Gone, Flight Attendants, Intense Kissing - no seriously, M/M, Metal Has a Mouth Only for Service Purposes We Promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14142405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClarityOrganism/pseuds/TheClarityOrganism, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEnigmaMachine/pseuds/TheEnigmaMachine
Summary: In the cramped aisle of an airplane, flight attendants Sonic and Metal are constantly crossing each other's paths. While once an annoyance, conversation and simple glances have made each crossing a bit more pleasant than what would be expected of them.However, when the distractions become too much, Metal is forced to take matters into his own hands. This ends far more pleasantly than he could have ever imagined.





	Smooches by South Island Airlines

According to the instructions, all Metal Sonic had to do was pull up the corner of his mouth. So he did just that. The corners were up, creasing the new silicon layer of his muzzle like a wrinkled sheet. So far, so good. Now he had to part his lips. A good smile had to show some teeth. That was how you knew it was genuine. The instructions said so.

Metal showed his teeth to the passengers. "Welcome to South Island Airlines!"

Another aspect of a good smile was eye contact. Metal ensured he had mutual eye contact with a particularly bored-looking elderly woman sitting in the front aisle.

"Now for the pre-flight safety procedures," Metal said, still showing his teeth, still making mutual eye contact.

This was customer service.

Meanwhile, a familiar coat of fur brushed against Metal's back. The aircraft was hopelessly cramped, and Sonic's quills had nowhere to go but to brush all across Metal's neck as he squeezed by to check on someone.

Metal shivered and his optics flickered. He clutched the seat back cushion on the aisle next to him, tensing his fingers. His eyes lingered on Sonic's quills. How firm they were, how supple, how—

"Y-your seat cushion doubles as a floating device," Metal continued. His voice pitched high enough to border on squeaking. "In the event of an emergency, pull it out by the strap below."

The passenger next to Sonic whispered something. Sonic's ear twitched. He stammered, "Y-you, what?"

Sonic leaned in, listening to the passenger's request. Metal couldn't make out the discussion, but whatever it was, Sonic was flushing red.

"M-me? With him? What, just because—" Sonic's voice was comparatively higher than Metal's voice. "I—uh—"

Sonic turned away and didn't spare Metal a second glance as he quickly walked down the aisle.

Even in the cramped flight cabin, Sonic's quills would bounce with as he moved. A slight bounce. Metal could see it even as Sonic walked away. The plane was not so big as to block his view.

His smile—Metal had dropped his smile. He immediately brought it back. Customer service was always served with a smile.

Without looking up, he rummaged around in an overhead bin. His fingers brushed past a plastic strap, and he tugged out an oxygen mask.

"In the event the cabin depressurized, oxygen masks will drop down. Please secure the mask around your mouth with the strap."

Metal slapped the mask over his face.

In the distance, Metal could only hear the fading of Sonic's footsteps.

Metal beeped. He shoved the mask back into the cabinet and quickly cover his mouth with his hand.

He had beeped. He was _never_ supposed to beep. It was bad customer service.

Metal shuffled down the aisle. Passing a teenage boy, he pointed at the boy's seat belt. "Please stay seated with your seat belt fastened as we prepare for takeoff."

The boy huffed but clicked his seat belt. Metal continued down the cabin. A middle-aged woman was reading some type of magazines. It was one of those trashy magazines—the kind that was 90% advertisements. Metal never understood why humans read those things. This type of publication obviously had low information density and—

The advertisement featured a human couple. They were perfectly airbrushed in a glossy, sterile sort of way, and on the page, the couple was leaning into each other. Their lips were locked. They were kissing.

Metal's smile twitched. His optics twitched. His feet caught the stained airplane carpet as he came to a complete stop. "We-are-now-prepared-for-take-off."

Metal had never scooted to the back of the airplane so quickly. He ducked back into the flight attendant cabin and quickly snapped on his own seat belt.

Sonic followed suit a minute later, sitting nearby and strapping his own seatbelt on. He didn't look at Metal for even one second—not like Metal was counting or anything—before staring at the floor. "H-hey, Mets."

The airplane was cramped. Sonic's seat was next to Metal's. Sonic's pant leg brushed Metal's pant leg. They weren't technically touching.

They were touching.

"G-greetings, Sonic."

Sonic paused, trying to find fascination in the bleach white ceiling. "So, uh...did you get any requests yet?"

The pilot mumbled a few jumbled sentences over the intercom. The turbines roared to life.

"Ah—" Metal pulled the emergency instructions out of the seat back pocket and thumbed through them. He had only read them 93 times before. "I...I mean, a passenger asked for some aspirin but...ah, did you?"

"No!" Sonic answered too quickly. He stared straight ahead and tried to keep his expression neutral.

The plane began to roll down the runway.

Finished once reading the instructions, Metal started over from the beginning. There were cartoon people putting on oversized, orange floating devices. Cartoon people snapping on the oxygen mask. Cartoon people sitting close together. Maybe their pant legs were touching too. Maybe they would lean over. Maybe their lips would touch. Maybe they would—

The plane lurched up, rising off the ground. The cabin shook. The plane leaned.

Sonic's leg brushed into Metal's. Metal's grip on the instructions tightened. The paper wrinkled.

Sonic waited until the plane steadied. He then stood back up and stared down at Metal.

"You okay?" he asked, adjusting his tie.

Metal glanced up at Sonic. A mistake. Now he could see Sonic's face. Sonic's lips. Metal had lips now. He could—

Metal quickly stuffed the instruction back into the seat back pocket and stood up himself. The plane was in flight now. He had to attend to passengers.

"I am f-fine," Metal said. He nodded toward the aisle. "As usual, I will record the passengers' drink orders. You may deliver them."

"Sounds good!" Sonic gave Metal a small salute then walked off.

Slowly, Metal brought his own hand to his forehead. His hand lingered there for a moment as he watched Sonic go. He gave Sonic's back a small salute. He beeped quietly and adjusted his tie.

There was work to do.

Metal stepped up to a passenger in the last row. "May I take your order?"

This workday was fairly standard. Metal took orders, and Sonic delivered them quickly, careful not to run too fast and spill the drinks.

It was a simple and easy system. However, it unfortunately led to Sonic passing by Metal many times.

Many, many times.

As Metal took another order, Sonic's passed by him again. The fur on his head brushed against the side of Metal's face.

Metal twitched. An elderly gentleman was seated in front of him.

"Very w-well—" Sonic brushed past him again, and Metal's voice cut off with a beep. He tried to regain his composure. "Y-you would like the t-tonic—"

Sonic walked by. His quills caressed Metal's side. Metal's beeping grew louder.

"W-water—"

Sonic seemed oblivious to Metal, although his face was suspiciously red as he walked back and forth, passing out drinks to people.

The old man tried to say something, but Metal inadvertently cut him off with another beep as Sonic walked past.

Enough. Metal couldn't do his job under these conditions. He had to do something.

"P-pardon me," Metal said to the old man. The bottom of his optical screen was utterly flushed. "I-I must take care of something. I will return momentarily."

Sonic handed out another drink then turned around. Metal was standing in front of him. Sonic couldn't walk any further.

"O-oh! Uh, hey, Mets! What's up?"

Metal should say something. He should. That was why he was here—to put an end to the distraction. To get back to work.

Sonic's face was just _too sincere._

"W-what are you doing?" Metal stammered.

"What am I..." Sonic blinked, uncertain of what Metal meant. "My job?"

Metal hesitated. Sonic's job? Sonic was doing more than his job. He was doing—

"Sonic—" Metal hissed. He gestured toward the back of the plane. "I need to talk to you."

"Um—" Sonic flushed. "Right now?"

Metal gave Sonic the most impressive frown he could muster. Or maybe it was a smile? Who knew?

"Yes—" Metal beeped. "Now."

Sonic opened his mouth, ready to protest until the passenger next to him gave him a nudge.

She whispered excitedly, "Go for it!"

Sonic flushed deeper but relented. "F-fine."

He grabbed Metal's hand, leading him to the back of the plane.

Metal beeped. "G-good! Let us go. Let us go now—"

Sonic's hand was unbearably warm against Metal's palm. Unbearably warm in the sense it was the perfect temperature and the perfect grip strength and the perfect—

At the back of the plane was a storage cabinet. It was cramped, clearly made for one person.

Sonic dragged them both inside and shut the door. "Okay, so what's up?"

There was no space. Metal tried to lean back, but his back hit the wall. Sonic's suit jacket was touching his own.

"Y-you—I keep beeping—keep interrupting the passengers—"

Sonic raised a brow. "Is there a way I can stop it? Or...?"

Sonic's voice was so genuine. He really meant that. He really wanted to help.

Metal tried to frown—or maybe smile—at Sonic. "Y-you keep brushing past—"

Metal could feel his mouth crease. Why could Metal feel his mouth crease? Why had they bothered to do that? Why were they so cruel? But, worse—the corollary: if he could feel the outside of his mouth—

"I do?" Sonic swallowed sheepishly. "I...didn't notice.

He ran his hand over his quills. He _definitely_ had noticed.

This tiny room—there was no space! Sonic's accursed quills were touching Metal's forearm. So Metal tried to move his hand down, but Sonic's tie had come loose from his suit vest, and now that was brushing the top of Metal's hand.

"I know this aircraft is hardly what one would call spacious," Metal said. The bottom of Sonic's pant leg brushed Metal's exposed ankle. "A-and I know that makes it difficult but—"

"S-sorry—I didn't—I mean—" Sonic paused. "...I can't really help it, y'know?"

Another problem with the room: it compressed Sonic and Metal's body heat into one tiny space. Oppressive heat. It weighed down on Metal's lips.

"I know you cannot help it, but that does not make it any better." Metal tried to shake his head, but the room was too cramped. Sonic's quills brushed the side of Metal's face, and Metal winced. "I-I keep beeping at customers. It ruins the facsimile."

Sonic bit his lip. "Yeah, I get that."

He remembered the constant brushing against Metal. How could he not? But maybe Metal didn't remember it as vividly. "...You hate it."

"You do not have to phrase it like...like that." Sonic's tie hung down loose and warm. Metal brushed the back of it with the tips of his fingers. "It is only...suboptimal in these conditions."

"Suboptimal?" Sonic echoed.

He reached up and pulled on Metal's hand.

"Mets, I mean..." He hesitated. "I could ask them to move me?"

The plane rumbled. A faint, weightless sensation welled up inside Metal's chest.

Minor turbulence.

"M-move you?" Metal's voice was both louder and more beepy than he intended. "N-no, they cannot move you—no, that would be...no!"

"W-what? Why not?" Sonic asked. It was obvious he didn't want to be moved either. "I don't get it, Mets. What's the—"

A small bout of turbulence shook the plane and knocked Sonic against Metal very briefly.

His fur ruffled. "W-what's the problem?"

Metal beeped again. The turbulence had thrown off his balance, and he was now leaning on top of Sonic. Metal's own tie hung loose, draped over Sonic's chest like a table runner.

In this position, all he would have to do is wrap his arms around Sonic's back, pull Sonic up into his chest, and—

"T-they cannot—t-transfer—you—"

Sonic, clearly annoyed by the turbulence, grabbed Metal's upper arms gently, holding him still. "Why not? If it bothers you so much..."

Metal's eyes flickered toward Sonic's hand on his arm.

He didn't move Sonic's hand.

"S-sonic—" Metal said quietly. "I do not want you to be transferred."

"You keep saying that."

Sonic leaned even closer, nose touching Metal's muzzle.

"I don't wanna to be either, but..."

Metal shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be doing this. It had been too long. He should be serving drinks. He should be handing out lightly salted and heavily preserved peanuts. He should be—

Metal leaned closer. Sonic's warm and gentle breath brushed Metal's silicon lips.

Metal's voice was barely louder than the muffled whine of the engine. "I want to work with you."

Sonic inhaled sharply, taken aback by the brilliance of Metal's eyes.

"Then...why—"

Metal's felt light. He was falling. He was flying. The cabin shook, rattled, and dropped.

Turbulence knocked out what little stability Metal had beneath him. He lurched forward. His muzzle brushed Sonic's lips.

Sonic's eyes widened at the contact, but he didn't let go. His grip on Metal tightened.

The accidental kiss was warm, pleasant, and everything in between. Against his better judgment, Sonic closed his eyes, leaning into it.

If the plane was still bumpy, Metal couldn't tell. The turbulence of his mind was far greater than any gust of wind. Sonic's lips weren't quite like Metal had imagined—and he had imagined them quite a lot. They were soft but in a muscular sort of way. The warmth was an unfamiliar yet deeply welcome warmth, like the warmth of the very cups of tea he was supposed to be serving.

Metal made only one noise: part beep, part gasp. With Sonic's weight against him, Metal turned his head just enough to more fully align the kiss.

Sonic's hands slid down Metal's arm affectionately. The small size of the room made it so easy to keep Metal close, and contrary to what Metal was always insisting, that beeping noise wasn't at all distracting.

It was actually very attractive.

The plane jostled again, knocking them both to the floor.

Sonic remained encouraged, drawing his hand behind Metal's head to hold him in place while he continued the kiss.

Metal hadn't fallen to the ground so much as he was half sitting, half lying with his back pressed against the wall. At this angle, Sonic was nearly sitting in Metal's lap. Their legs tangled together.

Metal's hands drifted down, coming to a rest on Sonic's hips just slightly beneath the tail of Sonic's suit vest.

Against the cold, stale draft of the recirculated airplane air, every part of Sonic was incredibly warm.

Sonic leaned down, trying to create further contact. His free hand moved to Metal's face, stroking one of the bolts more delicately than Metal had ever been handled, applying just enough pressure to twist the bolt threads slightly.

Metal leaned into Sonic's hand, letting out a muffled whine.

The flap of Sonic's shirt tail had worked its way free from his belt, exposing a narrow gap. Metal trailed his hand to this spot and pressed the tips of his fingers into the surface of Sonic's fur.

With one hand on Sonic's hips, Metal worked his other hand beneath Sonic's shirt, trailing Sonic's spine beneath his smooth fur. Sonic arched his back into Metal's hand, letting out a soft whine.

Sonic gripped Metal tighter to intensify the kiss. His mouth opened involuntarily, unintentionally offering Metal an invitation inside.

Their lips deeply intertwined, and encouraged by the sweetness of Sonic's breath, Metal parted his own lips, mimicking Sonic's movement.

Eagerly, Sonic slid his tongue past Metal's lips, exploring the inside of Metal's mouth.

Did kissing involve more than just lips? Metal had no idea. But then again, how was he supposed to know? It wasn't like the magazines ever showed this.

But if Sonic's lips had strength, his tongue had even more. If Sonic's breath had tasted sweet, his tongue was still greater. And if this was what a kiss was, Metal had absolutely zero complaints.

Metal's whine turned into a soft moan. He let his own tongue slip past and work its way into Sonic's mouth. With his other hand, he pulled the remaining corner of Sonic's shirt free. This gave him enough space to run both his hands up Sonic's back and feel the smooth fur with his palms.

Sonic moaned in return, shuddering beneath Metal's grasp. He had honestly thought about Metal's tongue before. What did it taste like? He had imagined it didn't taste like anything.

But no, it tasted _amazing._ It was so simply designed, certainly never planned to be used for such an activity, and yet Sonic enjoyed every second.

Part of him suspected he liked the taste purely _because_ it was Metal. It was entirely possible.

Metal's moaning grew louder. Having no need to breath, he could keep his lips and tongue utterly locked with Sonic. He did this just now—the thought of separation nearly felt like physical pain. He wanted this—his palms against Sonic's back and Sonic's tongue inside his mouth.

He grabbed Sonic's tie, using it as an anchor to pull Sonic as close as he possibly could against his chest. He began to slide his own tongue against Sonic's in repeated motions, shuddering each and every time Sonic's tongue caressed his own. In tandem with that motion, he drew his hand higher up Sonic's back, pressing against the base of Sonic's back quills.

Sonic clung tighter to Metal, shuddering further and moaning along. It was so nice; _more_ than nice even. He didn't want to leave it, and every stroke across Metal's armor confirmed that.

Unfortunately, the lack of oxygen was quickly becoming a problem.

Sonic straightened with a gasp, nearly sweating as he took in large amounts of air.

"M-mets." He panted, face flushed red and a hand over his mouth.

The lingering sensation of Sonic's mouth and lips spun through Metal's processors. For a long moment, it was all he could focus on—the warmth and strength of the sensation.

"I-I...I am sorry," Metal choked. He hid his own mouth behind his elbow. He could only stare at Sonic. "D-did...did I hurt you?"

"N-no. No," Sonic shook his head. "Just...just..."

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen that made Sonic slink down and lay on Metal. Maybe he just wasn't thinking when he nuzzled his face into Metal's shoulder.

Or maybe it was just Metal.

Metal let out another beep—surprised and yet also somewhat calm. Through the fabric Metal's shirt, Sonic's face was warm.

Metal held Sonic close by the small of his back. "Then...then you are...?"

"I'm fine," Sonic murmured, as if a ton of tension was relieved. He let out a content sigh, looking as if he could fall asleep on Metal.

The protocol—what was the protocol? Sonic and he were trapped. Sonic and he had just...they had just _kissed._ They really had, hadn't they? They had just kissed and Sonic was unharmed and...and—

"So you are not upset with me?" Metal asked.

"Upset?" Sonic paused, eyes opening back up. "Wait—"

He propped himself up, glancing at Metal. "I thought _you_ were upset with _me?_ That brushing—"

The bottom half of Metal's optical screen turned a bright red. "Ah, well, that was because...ah...it was because—"

Metal pressed the tips of his fingers into Sonic's fur. "...because I wanted to...to kiss you."

"You..." Sonic leaned close, his palm against the bolt on Metal's cheek. "Really?"

He smiled, sillier than usual. " _You_ wanted to kiss me? Rough and tough Metal who said that he hated me when we first started working together?"

Metal turned away, his palm over Sonic's hand. "I-I was very conflicted. I felt ashamed. I still feel ashamed."

"Ashamed?" Sonic echoed. "Why?"

Metal still didn't look up. "I am your coworker. I am a robot. It would have been easier if I could just...if I could just forget those feelings. To go back to hating working with you. Go back to being...being nothing more than they meant me to be."

Metal shook his head. "Nevermind. It does not make any sense. I should leave you be."

The instant Metal tried to move, Sonic pinned him back down, hands firmly on the copper of Metal's hands.

" _You_ are not going anywhere," Sonic said strictly. He paused, letting the moment drag on, then smiled. "You don't even want to hear me out?"

Metal winced. His copper was just so sensitive. He was torn between letting Sonic hold him like this forever and possibly locking himself in the storage bay for the rest of the flight.

But Sonic's smile encouraged him. "Hear you out?"

"Yeah." Sonic shifted, releasing his hold on Metal. "If you ask me, I think it's cool that you're more than what you were meant to be. It's great that you're more than just some order-following robot! In fact..."

He leaned down, trailing his fingertips along Metal's chin. His smirk was unbelievably wide.

"I might find it _just a little_ charming. If you know what I mean."

"Charming? You mean—"

The kiss—Sonic had leaned into every moment of it. He had pulled Metal closer, connected their mouths.

Metal's optics widened. "Oooh—"

"So you wanted to kiss me, hm?" Sonic hummed, thoroughly amused and just a bit flustered.

He took Metal's chin into his hand, eyeing Metal's muzzle closely.

He glanced up. "And would you wanna do it again? Maybe later today? After work?"

Metal suddenly felt light and airy, and it certainly wasn't the turbulence. He squeezed Sonic's back gently. "A-after work? When you go back to the hotel?"

Metal indulged in that thought for a moment. Just he and Sonic—there would be no passengers. Metal wouldn't be left alone this time in the aircraft hanger.

And another kiss—

"A-absolutely!" Metal stammered.

Sonic laughed; that light, joyous laugh that Metal loved so much. "Sounds good."

His expression went from cheerful to neutral. "But guess I should get up now—"

Sonic's ear twitched. A sound—something against the other side of the door? Like someone had shoved or propped something against it. A giggle followed, fading with the sound of footsteps.

Sonic blinked. He stood up and grabbed a hold of the door handle.

"...Uh, Mets? The door won't open."

Sonic sounded remarkably not upset.

Oh, shoot—that was right! The passengers—the drinks—work—!

Metal slid up, pressing his back against the wall, attempting to give them both space. The room was still impossibly cramped. He placed his hand on the thin, plastic puzzle that was supposed to serve as a doorknob.

The latch didn't click.

"It is locked!"

Sonic crossed his arms, humming to himself.

"Well, if we have an _excuse_ not to work, we can't really get in trouble for it, right?"

Metal jiggled the mechanism again. Stuck. He glanced at Sonic. Sonic was as smug—and attractive—as ever.

He also had a point.

"It looks like we may be trapped here for a while."

"Yeah..."

Sonic looked over at Metal, smiling. "So, uh, I heard your schedule's been recently cleared, hm?"

Metal turned. He smiled—his first real, genuine smile with his new mouth. "It appears it has."

Sonic's ears perked. He flushed, suddenly looking less composed than before. He swallowed, pretending to be occupied by running a hand through his quills.

"H-heh, uh—nice smile."

"Ah—" Metal looked away, flushing. The room was impossibly cramped, and Sonic was practically touching him. He pressed his fingertips together. "T-thank you. Yours is nice too."

Sonic looked back, surprised to hear that.

The smug returned. "You think?"

He pulled Metal close, the side of his nose touching the side of Metal's. "Then I guess you want a little more practice with your mouth now, huh?"

Metal leaned closer. Sonic's skin was soft and his breath was moist. "Practice makes perfect, as they say."

Another laugh. "That's true."

He took Metal's hands in his own. "We better get a lot of practice in then."

They smiled at each other, then leaned in, leaving the locked door completely forgotten.


End file.
